


Lies and Filthy Liars (Like Me)

by mydogfoundthechainsaw



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Is a Good Bro, Bucky doesn't know what he's doing, Clint is the annoying neighbor, Fluff, M/M, Natasha is a badass, Thor Is a Good Bro, roommates au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogfoundthechainsaw/pseuds/mydogfoundthechainsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in which Bucky tries to convince everyone that Sam/Steve is totally a thing and everyone but Sam and Steve believe him (for a time). Roommate AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha Kills

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is totally cliché. But it had to be done.

               It starts off simply. If Sam or Steve ever bitch at him about it, he’ll say he was bored. There’s only so long he can pretend to be a 40’s housewife, baking and cleaning and creeping on his neighbors. Yes, he’s also trying to get into politics, to fix the stupid mess that left him without an arm and with memories of torture and pain. But still. Politics are boring as hell, another form of torture. And anyway, it makes perfect sense. Because friends don’t insist on playing Marvin Gaye and a bunch of other slow jazz love songs to one another. At least not where he comes from. Nobody does that.

                Except for Sam. He likes Sam, though. Sam is funny and well-adjusted and tries to do the right thing. If Steve is going to fall in love with someone, he’d want it to be Sam. Steve refuses to fall in love with anyone though, or at least he claims. Natasha doesn’t seem to understand that, and that’s how it all begins. Because she’s constantly trying to get him to date the other tenants. Somehow she knows everyone in the building, which adds support to Steve’s idea that she is not just a ballerina. She knows that Sharon in 4B likes white and has a long history of being in the military, that Ororo in 6A loves stormy weather and is passionate about politics, that Carol in 9B was a pilot and is a feminist. Though the last one’s mostly for Sam—he was a pilot. But Steve gratefully declines each one, saying some witty line and then running for the nearest exit. Steve is a little afraid of powerful women—not in a “they’re too powerful way for a woman” but in a “I hope they like me” way.

                Nat is just trying to help, and she means the best. She wants Steve out in the world, instead of hanging with him and Sam, talking about birds and music and politics. Even though no one’s really sure about her past or what her relationship with Clint is, he likes her; she’s even started suggesting guys for Sam, which just makes Steve blush harder. And he has to admit Steve might need someone other than him and Sam. Being a POW gave him nightmares that make him fear going to sleep, and even as well-adjusted as Sam is, losing his wingman has left a dark mark.

                But Nat is unrelenting in her search for Steve’s mate—he fears one day she’ll do the same to him eventually—and has begun questioning Steve’s friends—which are really only him and Sam, maybe some of the other tenants, like Bruce, Thor, and Tony. So one day she corners him in the laundry mat, where Thor is trying to convince Jane to let him adopt yet another dog from his work, and starts firing off questions. “What does Steve look for in a wo—date? What exactly is attractive?”

                This is exactly what he was afraid of. “How should I know?”

                “You’re his best friend, Barnes. You know what he likes—long walks on the beach, running naked on the Fourth of July, what? Because I’ve been trying to get people he would like, but he keeps saying no. Why?”

                “Why?”

                “Why what, Barnes? You can use more than two words in a conversation,” she snaps back. That’s her pet peeve about him. He doesn’t talk enough. Like she’s some sort of example. She says exactly enough to get what she wants, without you even knowing. Except around Steve and Clint. Sometimes she opens up.

                “He’s dating Sam. Or he wants to. I’m not sure.”

                And he’s surprised she believes him. Because he’s pretty sure his face has scrunched in fear of discovery—lying may be a strong suit of his, but it’s a pretty big lie. Instead, she narrows her eyes at him and then smiles, nodding. “Hmph. Makes sense. Thanks Barnes. You’ve been a big help.”

                As soon as she leaves, he sinks against the washing machine, head in hands. Because what he’s just said is the perfect way to get Nat off Steve’s back—he should be grateful for that—but it’s also a big fat lie. He thinks. It could not be. He isn’t sure what exactly Steve and Sam have, but it _could_ be love. Romantic love. It could also be some weird, codependent friendship, like the one Sam has with his birds. He hates the birds; they hate him back. But if Nat tells Steve, then he’ll be fucked. So he sprints after her, catching her in front of Steve’s door. “What are you doing, Barnes? I was going to congratulate the happy couple.”

                She sounds suspicious; she always sounds suspicious, though. “Well, they’d probably like to tell you themselves. And…they’re kinda being quiet about it. They don’t know I know.”

                Her eyes narrow, or maybe that’s just the way she looks. But he’s saved when Clint comes out of nowhere to crush her in a hug. If anyone’s a secret couple, it’s those two. “What’s upppp, ballet girl? Oh, hey Buck,” he says, like Bucky is some easily missed shadow.

                “Nothing.”

                Clint nods and smiles; he appreciates Bucky’s quietness. Probably because that means he can chatter on—he starts telling them some story about the new girl he’s teaching gymnastics, named Kate, who’s annoying and a spitfire and sounds like a female version of Clint. He doesn’t move—he’s afraid Nat will tell Clint, who really doesn’t understand secrecy, unless it concerns his past or his relationship with Nat.

                So he endures Clint’s prattling until he finally takes a breath and Nat drags him back to the apartment, to do God only knows what. They creep him out—sometimes they’re both too good at fighting or getting information out of you to just be a ballerina and a gymnastics instructor. But their whole building is made of very strange people, none of whom he socializes much with. He still doesn’t feel like he fits in the world, but Steve, Sam, Nat, and Clint have tried.

                He manages to avoid other tenants when he gets his laundry, or maybe they avoid him. Tony has something against him, for reasons unknown, and might have convinced the other residents to give him a wide berth. Or maybe it’s just his long hair and crappy sense of dress, which Steve claims makes him look homeless. Steve dresses like an old person. He’s not sure why Sam would ever fall for him just because of that. Sam dresses well, causal but attractively, whereas Steve either looks like a hipster or an old person. Mostly like an old person, with khakis and horrible button-up shirts.

                The apartment is quiet when he enters, which is good. He needs to figure out how to get himself out of the mess he’s created. Nat doesn’t really scare him, but he doesn’t really want to explain why that was his first excuse. And she won’t say anything. Especially because it makes so much sense. But if they never get together, which they probably won’t, how is he going to explain everything? He’s pacing the living room when Sam dumps groceries on the kitchen floor, bitching about how much they eat. It’s mostly him and Steve who eat, like they’re in some competition; Sam usually watches with equal parts fascination, horror, and anger. Mostly anger. Like they’re just eating way too goddamn much. They end up putting the groceries away together as Sam tells him about his latest adventures in the grocery store. The three of them have a bitter relationship with a cashier, Johann Shmidt, who wears too much red and is, they believe, the head of the local Nazi party. He’s really not sure why they continue to shop at the same store—most of the people there hate them. But it works.

                After they’re done, Sam takes a long swig of milk and looks at him. “Everything okay, James? Something’s bothering you.”

                Fuck. He didn’t think of this possibility. Sam’s a counselor for the VA, why wouldn’t he figure this mess out? He inhales deeply, wondering what Sam would do if he just spilled the beans. “Have you ever told a lie, about someone else, to help them, but it really doesn’t?”

                “Did Nat corner you about something again?”

                And Sam is smiling, which is good. He’d probably think it was hilarious if he told him right now. Of course, it could just be awkward. Because then he’d have to explain why that was the first thing that came to his mind. And Sam could actually have a thing for Steve, and then they’d all be fucked. “Yeah.”

                “Tryin’ to get Steve a date, or you?”

                “Steve.”

                “Yeah. She came and asked me about it. I’m feelin’ kinda offended she hasn’t tried to set me up yet. If it gets her off his back, he probably won’t mind.”

                Shit. Shit. Shit. “When’d she ask?”

                “Just as I was heading in. I just told her he was happy with what he had, as far as I knew. And then she gave me that creepy-ass smile of hers. Are we sure she’s not some secret agent sent to kill us all? Her and Clint? Because seriously, they need to fuckin’ stop.”

                Even better. Now she thinks that they are together and trying to hide it. But Sam is smiling at him, still oblivious to everything. “What’d you tell her?”

                “Nothin’.” And it sounds too casual, too awkward, but he’s saved by the door opening. It’s Steve. Sam’s mega-watt smile brightens then, and for a second, he’s happy with the lie he’s told. Because there’s no way it’s not true. Steve relaxes when he sees them together, talking, and smiles at Sam; he was afraid, when he first moved in, that he and Sam wouldn’t get along. “James was just complainin’ about Nat’s incessant attempts to get you laid. Apparently he told her somethin’ secret to get it to stop.”

                “She means well. It’s her version of friendship, I think. She doesn’t trust or like really anybody, so when she does, she wants you to be happy. I’m just happy here.”

                There’s Steve, seeing the best in everyone. He wasn’t sure about her at first, but at some point, before he came, she and Steve got chummy. She comes over a lot, forcing them to watch random Russian movies, bringing Clint along for comedic relief, and they go to her shows and she makes them interesting foreign meals. “But she doesn’t do it for anyone. Not me, or Clint, or Tony, or James.”

                “I’m fine.” And he is. He doesn’t want to date anyone, not right now. Because he’s still getting over his time as a captive; he can’t deal with anyone’s problems.

                “Do you really want to date anyone right now? Especially anyone from this apartment? They’re all lovely women, but still. She thinks you’re well-adjusted and will get someone on your own—she literally said that you were a good influence on me.”

                “Like you need a good influence.” Sam cuts in with a smile, and there’s no way there isn’t something there.

                “You are though,” Steve replies, with a shy smile he’s seen too much of growing up. Steve’s hopelessly in love. Why hasn’t he seen it till now? “And she doesn’t like many of the other people here. Tony pisses her off; she thinks he’s a spoiled brat who doesn’t understand life. Bruce and her…I think she got affected by one of Bruce’s moods. Thor’s happy with Jane, and who else is there really in this apartment?”

                “Clint. And her.”

                “She’s not the type of woman to need anyone. I think they’re just friends, but I’m pretty sure she’s just trying to be a good friend to me. But I’m glad you got her to stop. How exactly, again?”

                “It’s some secret. Some huge lie or somethin’, he won’t say.”

                Steve nods at him, and he feels guilty again. He really should say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he busies himself making dinner. For the rest of the night, he’s able to forget his mistake. Diner is beyond excellence, according to Steve—he always says things like that—and then the three of them play Mario Kart until they pass out.


	2. Thor Massacres

       When he wakes up the next morning, the first thing he thinks about is his lie. It’s been a whole day though, and it’d be really awkward to say something now, he tells himself. So he gets ready and pointedly ignores the hopelessly domestic scene that is morning in the Rogers-Wilson-Barnes household.

      He’s still not sure why they’re roommates. Steve met Sam on a morning run, and about the time he came back, they moved in together. But after he returned, and after his road trip, they let him move in to their two bedroom apartment. He’s got his own room now, while Steve and Sam squish into one room with two twin beds. Grown men shouldn’t sleep on twin beds. Sometimes he feels guilty they’ve given up so much for him, but they never seem to mind. All of them understand where he’s coming from—they all have their own nightmares—and while being alone might help him, togetherness helps both of them. No one has ever commented on getting a larger apartment or anything.

      They’ve all learned how to survive with each other quickly. And he usually doesn’t mind feeling like they’re in some 50’s domestic scene, but after his lie, all he can think about is if Sam and Steve get together. It makes him feel even worse when he realizes the reason it makes him worry is that he wonders what would happen to him. If they’d be one of those couples who has time only for one another. He doubts it. Most of him would be happy, though. Steve’s never been very good with the ladies. Peggy, part of their unit during the war, promised him a date afterwards, but things happened and it never worked out. And before that, Steve was hopeless.

      But they have work, and he doesn’t, not really, so he’s stuck with his thoughts for the better part of the morning. Steve works as an artist, doing stuff he’s not really sure about; Sam works for the VA; and him? He’s trying to get into politics. He’s not sure why. He never wanted anything to do with them, but after all he’s been through, he thinks he should have some input into the process. It’s working, but slowly and exhaustingly and annoyingly. The government is not built to be friendly, especially to ex-POWs from the poor side of Brooklyn. It makes a nice story on the evening news, but politics are for the rich, old, white men who’ve never lived half a life as exciting and horrible as he has. But it’s working. Pretty well, actually. He’s running for election now, or at least trying to.

     Everyone from the apartment has tried to help. Steve creates great speeches, inspiring and meaningful, and knows what people need, even if he thinks he’s shit at it. But he feels guilty using Steve’s words, so he writes his own based on those ideas. The speeches never sound half as good from his mouth, and when he talks to people, he sounds awkward. Nat’s right; he doesn’t talk very much, and he’s pretty sure most of the people he’s talked to think he’s some crazy, homeless vet with an idea. But it’s okay. Other people believe in him. Working at the VA for so long means that Sam understands government legalese enough so that he avoids making any paperwork mistakes that might doom his career. Nat gives him dirt on his competitors—how she knows this he doesn’t want to know—and tries to teach him how to be persuasive. It hasn’t really worked. After the second time, she angrily told him to “just look at people with those sad eyes of yours. They’ll have to vote for you. How can you even do that? It’s not goddamn fair,” before wandering off, muttering in Russian. Clint is a good sounding board for ideas—he pokes holes until the plans are airtight and laughs at the stupid ones.

      But even with all their help, he still really doesn’t think he’s going to win. Research has told him that incumbents, with unlimited funds, usually win. And there’s only one seat available; there’s four people, including him, running. One of them is the current Representative, and the other two, proud members of the extremely conservative, almost fascist, Hydra party. Hydra winning is a very real and frightening idea; he ventured into one of their meetings once, by accident. After all he’s been through, it’s hard to shock him. It’s quite terrifying to realize how easily people will give up their freedom if you ask nicely.

      He tries not to dwell on his inevitable defeat; the election’s less than a month away, and time’s flying by. There’s no fancy signs proclaiming his name, and he lacks a staff or a clear strategy.  But he’s real, unlike the other candidates. He shows up places and tries to talk to people. Nat’s right—for some reason people like him—or feel sorry, he’s never sure—and he’s got the support of practically every vet in the area. Sam likes to talk about him and Steve at work. Mostly Steve, but still.

     So he drowns out his guilt in work. The nearby community center always needs help, and for the four hours he’s there, he convinces at least twenty people to seriously consider him as a choice and another twenty more promise they’ll vote for him. People try to talk to him because of his arm; they feel guilty for staring at his prosthetic and decide talking will ease their shame. He’s not sure if it works. At first, it freaked him out; at first, he wanted to be alone, in his own little world, where he could get better. But now? Talking isn’t his favorite activity, but it reminds him he’s safe now. And it’s useful, for his campaign. His shitty, shitty campaign that’s going to fail once people realize he’s a horrible liar.

     Because that lie is on the back of his mind all day. Even as he gets into a debate with two Hydra supporters, he minds his words because he doesn’t want to make that mistake again. And he doesn’t. And Nat never bothers him, or Sam and Steve, when he gets home. Instead he cooks and eats and is forced to do karaoke by Sam.  So he doesn’t say anything. One of these days, he convinces himself, he’ll tell her it was an accident. He still can’t believe she believed him—she knows everything.

    So for the next four days, he’s able to avoid really thinking about his lie through work. Part of him almost wishes he’d lied about his friends earlier because putting all of his of focus towards campaigning is getting him places. Apparently people think Hydra’s just a little too focused on world security and not on freedom, but don’t see a better option. In some crazy version of the world, he’s a better option.

     And, to his excitement, he avoids mostly everyone from the apartment. Until late afternoon on the fifth day after his lie. He’s getting the mail when Thor walks up. He likes Thor. Thor is a buff version of sunshine and puppies; he’s got his own story of pain and war, but most of the time, he’s like sunshine on a cloudy day. He works at the ASPCA, for fuck’s sake, and constantly sneaks in dogs and cats that need a home. Jane, his girlfriend, occasionally fixes his prosthetic, and her only fee is to listen to her talk about science. She loves science; it's slightly disturbing. So he smiles at him and turns to walk away when Thor opens his mouth. “For some strange reason, I have not heard of your campaigning until now, James. I am truly sorry about that; you shall make a great representative for our lovely district. Jane said you had some problems with your work, and I was hoping you’d want to come up to our apartment and discuss them.”

     He’s pretty sure his face is pained, but Thor’s smiling, so he nods in agreement. He’s never really talked to Thor, but Jane talks about him a lot, and Steve seems to like him. He’s not sure how Thor’s the way he is, especially considering Loki. His brother who kidnapped Clint in an attempt to prove himself by taking over the company. It brought the apartment together, and now Loki’s in a mental institution, visited by Thor every weekend. But still. His only real contact with the man has been the bone-crushing hug he first gave him when Steve introduced them.

     Thor’s apartment shows what happens when animals meet science. It’s a terrifying sight. There’s approximately three dogs running around, with cats lounging on every surface, and huge textbooks and notes strewn across the room. Somehow, Thor finds room for them on the hair-filled couch and makes them coffee while talking. “So how exactly does one campaign for office?”

    Money. Money mostly. But he doesn’t want to be like that. “Hard work. Coming up with half-decent ideas with unbreakable support and then being able to convince people.”

    “I doubt you have a problem with that, James. You’re a very trustworthy-looking person. How is everything going, may I ask?”

    Shitty. “Good. I’m just doing a grass-roots campaign, so I probably won’t win, but I’m getting people aware.”    

    Why can’t he talk like this to other people? He sounds cool, calm, like a politician, not like he normally does. “I’m sure you’ll do well, James. And even if you don’t win, you have done the country a service by raising awareness. Have you seen those ads for the Hydra campaign? They sound like my father’s words.”

    There’s an edge of anger in his words, something most people would miss. He knows the reputation of Thor’s father as a business mogul, but he’s never known how Thor feels about that. “People like safety, not knowledge.”

    “They do, they do,” Thor replies. He’s looking out the window now, probably staring at Sam’s birds, which he loves to death. “But what exactly is a grass-roots campaign?”

    “Basically I’m doing everything myself. Just wandering around, trying to get the word out.”

    “None of those ugly signs I see everywhere lately?”

     He shakes his head, smiling. “Jane was complaining last night about the political process, how money has corrupted everything. Said you were doing a good job, but didn’t have the money to do it. I have money. Could you use it?”

     Shit. It’s a simple question, and he knows Thor would never expect anything back. But he’s not even sure what he could do with money—it’s pretty late in the season to get any word out. “Sure. Maybe.”

    “Need to consult with your team?” Thor asks with a smile. “Look, if you shall ever need anything, ring the bell. I have enough to spare.”

     But he doesn’t want to rely on anyone, even Thor. He might not be doing well on his own, but he’s doing it. And that’s all that matters. Thor directs the conversation away from politics then. He’s a great person to talk to. Like Clint, he’s got hundreds of stories, funny and touching and interesting all at once, but unlike Clint, he’s open about everything. He doesn’t break off in the middle of the best part because he “forgot to turn the oven off” or “Nat’s calling him”--said in the shiftiest tone of voice. Both of them, however, fill in his silence with their stories.

    Somehow, though, they end up on the topic of their apartment. It’s a dicey one because  their apartment has drama worthy of a prime-time show. He doesn’t really focus on it, but Thor cares about pretty much everyone. Tony, for instance, has a tumultuous relationship with Pepper, his research assistant, and Carol and Jessica, roommates in 9B, have an awkward off-again-on-again relationship. He tries to steer the conversation away from romance, but somehow they end up right where he feared. “So how is Natasha’s search for Steve’s love going? It is a much fabled and feared quest, and I hope and fear she will succeed.”

    “You know about that?”

    “Everybody does. Natasha claims it is her hobby.”

    Fuck. Now everyone is going to question why her “quest” has suddenly ended. “She’s going to have to find a new one soon though.”

   “I highly doubt that a woman like Natasha would ever give up on anything easily, James. Why would she now?”

    “He’s got Sam.”

    Shit. His subconscious really wants them to be together. Of course, it could be interpreted a different way. Thor’s not really into social customs, he’s realized, he doesn’t always get things right away. So he’s about to say they’re not _together together,_ but Thor’s about to burst with happiness. “Good! I was hoping they would find each other. Sometimes Steve and I train together and that man is all he talks about. You too, of course, but it is in a different way. I feared Steve would never act on his feelings. They shall...I am quite happy for them. Although it is quite surprising that they haven’t shouted it from the rooftops yet. I must inquire with Steve about this tomorrow.” 

     He stares into his coffee as Thor’s voice grows increasingly happier. Apparently everyone but him had realized that those two belonged together. And now that he has confirmed everyone’s belief, things aren’t going to end. But he really can’t let either of them know. “Keep it quiet, for a little while, please. They’re…figuring things out. You know how Steve is.”

    “Turns beet red whenever he cannot escape awkward situations? But of course I will. If you think it’s best.”

     That last statement twists the knife inside his gut even deeper. Because Thor trusts him, like Steve and Sam and Nat trust him, and here he is, leading them all on. He should at least try to set them up, or something. Eventually, his house of cards is going to come falling down, and he really shouldn’t be risking his only friends. But he smiles and somehow the conversation falls away from romance and onto Thor’s work. He doesn’t say very much more though, and quickly finds a way to excuse himself.

     He gets home to an empty apartment. Which a godsend. Because then he can pound his head into the wall without fear of consequences. Except for that of a blistering headache. After he’s done, he sits at his desk and contemplates ways out of his dilemma.

    There’s a couple. Telling the truth to Thor and Nat would solve the problem without Sam and Steve ever knowing, but he’s scared of what Nat would do when she realizes she’s been tricked. Of course, she is going to find out eventually. Unless she is just letting him lie to her. She probably is, just to fuck with him. He could tell Sam and Steve and get their opinion on the matter. But that would just lead to awkward conversations and Sam trying to psychoanalyze why he thought they’d be good together. It’s nice to talk to Sam sometimes, but not about that. He could talk to Clint and formulate a plan with him about how to stop the whole situation. He’s not sure he can trust Clint to a) not laugh him out of the building and b) tell Nat everything. Ignoring the whole situation is another option, but eventually Nat and Thor will realize nothing’s going on and ask probing questions he can’t answer. His last option’s probably not the best. Because it involves him setting them up. He’s not even sure how to do that; he tried to set Steve up during high school. It ended with Steve’s date ignoring him throughout the movie and then wandering off with another guy.

     But he’s pretty sure there’s something there, so it might be easier to get them together. Subtlety is important, though; he needs to have plausible deniability if anything goes wrong. He’s not entirely sure he’s going to have the time to do it though, so he decides to go with ignorance when the door opens. “—so Scott’s one of Tony’s coworkers? And he’s tryin’ to communicate with ants? Why exactly?”

    “Because they are rather useful. Is it any different from you and Redwin—“

    “Birds are intelligent, unlike ants. _Ants_. God these people are weird. Oh, hey James. How ya doin’?”

    Sam’s the only one who calls him James, and he kind of likes it. It recognizes he’s a little different than he was before everything happened, not that he minds Bucky. He’s never felt like correcting Nat’s Barnes. “Good. Did some campaigning, helped out—um…Thor wanted to know if I could use any money. For the campaigning.”

    “That’s great Bucky! What are you going to do with it?”

    He shrugs; he’s been too focused on the whole Sam-and-Steve-are-together lie to think about anything else. “You could make posters. I’ve got some designs that’ll look cool. That way people remember who you are.”

    It’s a reasonable plan. Steve is a great artist, but there’s some part of him that desperately doesn’t want to need Thor’s help. Or even succeed. Because he wants to do well but doesn’t want to be a politician.  If he can just get people to know what’s going on, that’d be okay. But he’s never been one to give up. So he promises he’ll talk to Thor after they eat and begins making dinner. Steve wanders off to clean the bathroom or something, leaving him with Sam. “So you fix everything with Nat?”

    “Haven’t seen her.”

    “It’s been what, five days, and you haven’t seen her? What’d you do, man?”

    “I think she went somewhere.”

    “Oh…one of her vague ‘trips’ to Lord knows where? I got you. She’s crazy, you know that? Hope you didn’t do anything too bad.”

    Lying about their relationship wasn’t _that_ bad. It wasn’t like lying about being the crazy, spider-hoarding tenant like Parker in 2C or saying you weren’t that billionaire’s son like Rand in 6B. “But you’ve dealt with worse. How’s the campaign thing goin’? Ready for your inevitable win?”

   “No. I’m not a good candidate, Sam. It’s been what, less than a year since I got back, and I spent how long driving around? My resume is shit.”

   “Compared to two fascists and a lifetime bureaucrat? You’ve got a real chance, James. Don’t sell yourself short. If you advertise a little better, you could do some serious damage.”

    That’s Sam. Believing in your ability to make your life better even when you’re sitting in the gutter. Even if he’s only known you for a little while, and most of that time you weren’t all there. So there’s no point in arguing that you’re going to lose by a landslide, no matter how much money you have. Instead he starts singing along with the radio. It’s screaming, really, a loud screeching that can probably be heard throughout the floor. He really doesn’t care. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam shake his head with a smile and join in, with his slightly better voice.

     He doesn’t notice Steve until they’re well into their third duet; he’s not sure how he missed him, almost doubled over with laughter, trying to film them. After the song’s over, Sam bows, Steve claps, and he’s laughing, on the verge of tears. Sam envelops him in a hug, ruffling his hair like they’re kids again, and then crushes Sam into his body and dances around the kitchen with him. It’s worthy of a picture, or a stupid Lifetime movie—and he is not obsessed with that channel, no matter what Sam says—and he knows he’s not going to say anything. They’re going to end up with each other anyway. Both of them are like suns, lighting up everyone’s life and pulling you in with a gravity of their own. It’s inevitable they’d fall in love.

    So he watches them with a smile, distantly thinking about where exactly his life when wrong. But it’s a lot better than anything he’d ever imagined. He’s always had a family, and now there’s just one more member. Who’s he to care if two of them are fucking in the corner? As long as he doesn’t have to hear it.

    For the rest of the night, he pretends everything’s normal. A couple of days ago, it would’ve been. He wouldn’t have rethought every action between Sam and Steve, trying to decode their relationship. But he’s able to do it, with some success. Because nothing’s more mind-numbing than Super Mario. Sleep comes easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Thor's dialogue is super awkward. i'm just super awkward.


	3. Quiet Lunches with Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's Bruce, trying to be a bro.

     He’s only able to avoid the consequences of his lie by burying himself in work the next few days. Thor lights up when he asks for money; apparently he has no real use for it. And Steve’s designs are actually really inventive, a lot less boring than everyone else’s. Even the signmaker starts inquiring if he can procure Steve to make a couple of logos. For some reason, he’s able to lie his way out of that one. Although it’s really not that hard. Steve occasionally rants about people who think artists should do easy things free of charge; he’s got it stuck in his mind.

     In the days while he waits for the signs to finish, he continues his normal routine. Because it’s D.C., people care a little more about their representative, and he starts seeing more of the other competitors around. Mostly they’re on TV or in signs, trying to convince voters that the other options are shitty. No one really attacks him, though, and he’s not sure whether to be offended or not. Steve tries to tell him it’s because there’s nothing to attack him about, but he fears it’s because he’s just not a real threat.

     He’s still unsure if that’s a good thing or not. Win or lose, he’s screwed. Because he either has to adjust to being a politician or being a nobody. And he’s been trying to avoid thinking of what he should do outside of politics. All of his disability and VA payments mean he doesn’t really _need_  a job, but he’ll go insane if he doesn’t. That’s why he ran anyway—to get out of the house. 

     Not that he doesn’t love it. Lately, though, being home is awkward. It’s one of those things—he forgets about his lies for a while, but then it creeps back into his thoughts. And they’re his friends, his family. It helps that Nat hasn’t been around for a while; she leaves, for reasons unknown, for weeks at a time. Clint refuses to elaborate on her disappearance, but decides to spend many of his evenings at their apartment, challenging him and Sam to Mario Kart races and telling stupid stories about his work. He usually wins, only because he rips the controller out of Sam near the finish line. Sam has not yet refused to let him play, though, which is good.

     The signs finish quickly, and soon the area is peppered with his name. Driving by them is unnerving—he’s a public figure now, not some nobody from Brooklyn. They work, too. People recognize him more, and actually seek him out to talk about politics. Every evening, he comes home, exhausted. His experiences have made him a little more introverted than he used to be. He can pull out that old demeanor, but it feels fake. Sam always tells him that he’s going to be a different person now because of all the hell he’s been through. It never makes him feel any better.

     So he starts taking his lunches at a little café that Logan owns. Japanese-themed, the café draws people who want to be left alone. Mostly, it’s Logan’s creepy-ass friends who he’s pretty sure are part of some gang. It’s relaxing and allows him to avoid meeting anyone. Until one day the door chimes open and Bruce walks in.

     Bruce from the apartment is a strange case. He’s quiet, a scientist working with Tony, but known to have anger issues. Nat’s not really sure of him, although Steve tends to believe the best, but they’ve never actually talked in detail. So he goes back to eating his food and jumps when Bruce settles into the seat across from him. “This place is…calming, huh?”

     Fuck. What exactly should he say—yes it’s calming, so please get the fuck away from me? He goes with swallowing his soup. “I can leave if you want. I just…I saw your posters. Steve drew them, right? They’re quite eye-catching. How is everything going?”

     Apparently he’s going to have to make friends with _everyone_ from the apartment because of this issue. Obviously he didn’t think this through. “Good. Highly doubtful I’ll get anywhere

     “That’s understandable. But commendable. I know I’d never do that. It’s…politics is a lot of work. Too stressful.”

     No really. “Gets me out of the apartment.”

     Bruce just smiles. But it’s true. Before he ran, he’d knitted Sam and Steve approximately five hats each, all of similarly shitty quality, and painted really crappy pictures. He did make several macramé animals, though, which he’s still proud of. Redwing would’ve had several bird-hats by now if he’d continued. And he hates Redwing. “I mostly work from home. I can’t …people are a lot to deal with. Especially Tony. He’s a great friend, but there’s only so much of him I can take.”

    Only so much? He’s not sure how people take _any_ of Tony. The man may have cleaned up his rich, playboy image, but he’s still a little too self-righteous. Steve thinks he means well, but Steve is not a good judge of character. On the other hand, Sam has a policy of “use and abuse;” he’s nice when he needs it, but ignores Tony most of the time. But everyone needs friends.

    They sit in companionable silence for several minutes. Bruce makes no attempt to talk, and he doesn’t either. Sam and him do that sometimes, when they’re making food, but Sam does it for him. Bruce? He has a feeling Bruce likes it too.

     So it becomes a thing they do. They don’t really talk to each other. When they first start their meal, Bruce’ll ask about his campaign or rant about science, or he’ll complain about politics and the apartment. It’s kind of nice, even if he still knows very little about the man. His quiet demeanor is at odds with the stories he’s heard, but he decides what he’s seen is good. Nat still hasn’t returned, and it’s been almost two weeks. The election day is creeping up on him, and it’s not good. There’s polls now that have his name on them. And he’s actually doing good. He’s not supposed to be doing good; he’s waiting for the bubble to pop and everyone realize he’s a liar.

    But it doesn’t. Instead he’s slowly making a name for himself and friends other than Steve, Sam and Clint. Because Thor now regularly invites him over—he’s always liked dogs, so Thor invites him on his morning runs. It’s a terrifying sight—this large, booming man running, almost chasing, four dogs through the park at six o’clock in the morning with him beside. Afterwards, Thor insists of making them coffee, and then Jane appears to mutter angrily about science. Usually then he sneaks away, unless Darcy’s there, and then they make stupid comments about how disgustingly coupley the two are. It’s nice. And he can tell Steve and Sam are really happy about this development, which makes him feel guilty about the whole thing. He still hasn’t come up with a plan of action; he’s pretty sure he never will.

     One day, after an exhausting argument with Schmit about Nazi Germany, he sits down next to Bruce, who’s reading a paper earnestly. “Hear this stupid thing about Mississippi’s gay marriage law? God. People are…people are something else, aren’t they? And you’re gonna get to deal with them soon.”

     Which is a major flaw in his plan. Because he has a problem with stupid bigots and has never been good with bullies—Steve’s made sure of that. So he just shrugs. “Hey. Have those stupid idiots you live with gotten together yet?”

    “What?”

     He nearly spits out his soup, but ends up looking up at him, drooling. “Sam and Steve?” Bruce says slowly, looking at him like he’s a little off. Sometimes he’s like that; sometimes he says things that are brilliant insights posed as questions, and tries to get you to come to his understanding.

     “What?” he repeats, trying to avoid another massive fuck-up of epic proportions.

     “ _Sam and Steve._ Your roommates. Tony has this conspiracy theory that they’re in love. Or that you’re some epic threesome. I feel like you should know about that kind of stuff.”

     “I don’t know what’s happening with them. They live an...interesting life.”

     He’s blushing now, eyes darting around, and there’s nothing he can do. “I can understand that. Just wanted to let you know. Because Tony’s making a big fuss about it and…you know how he gets.” He doesn’t. But he nods.

     “We’ve all got those friends, huh?”

     “Yeah. Bet Steve’s not like that, though.”

     “Steve’ll get into a bar fight to stop harassment, but otherwise?”

     “You’ve been friends for a while?”

     “As long as I can remember.” Which is true. He really can’t remember life before Steve; he’s not sure if that’s good or bad. But Bruce smiles and stares into his soup.

     And the rest of the lunch is normal. He’s pretty proud of himself for not continuing the lie. But it’s kind of funny that everyone thinks they’re in love. Really kind of sad, too, especially considering the fact he never noticed. How exactly did he not notice? As Steve’s best friend, he feels guilty.

     The rest of the day, he works on his campaign; it’s picking up steam. Which is frightening. He still hasn’t been noticed by any of the other campaigns, though, which he’s glad of. He doesn’t want to deal with all the negative bullshit that will dredge up his nightmares. For some odd reason, the only people he really ends up in arguments with are Schmit and the rest of his insane grocery store chain; when he goes to pick up milk, Schmit’s daughter, who calls herself Sin for some reason, starts yelling at him about the Statue of Liberty.

     It takes a while to make his escape from her checkout stand, but when he gets home, the apartment is empty. After a long day, he should really go sit down and veg on the television—there’s supposed to be a really good Lifetime movie on tonight. But as he pours himself a bowl of popcorn, Steve and Sam’s relationship flashes through his mind. As Steve’s best friend, he should interfere. Steve will get there eventually, but he probably doesn’t want to mess up one of his greatest relationships.

     So he starts a bullet list of ideas. Potential dates that aren’t really dates. So far he has several things: sending them on food “tours” of the city, signing them up for a dance class, directing them off to the museum, “losing” them at a haunted house, or locking them up in the closet. The last one is a stretch. Most of them are too suspicious, although he has no doubt Steve will believe him if he says it’s an accident. But the second one—sending them to a dance class—has potential. Because Steve’s always wanted to dance, and Sam has tried, on several occasions to teach him. But Sam is kind of a shitty teacher. And he could just claim he “found” an advertisement for dancing somewhere. It’s not a half-bad plan.

     Researching dance classes is pretty easy, and within a couple of minutes he’s got the confirmation letter printed. He leaves it up on the counter and settles into the movie. The good part is starting when Steve walks in, and he too settles into the couch. They’re enthralled in the drama—which, admittedly, isn’t that realistic—when Sam bursts in. He’s arguing loudly on the phone, and when they both turn to shush him, he collapses into laughter. “Y’all are so _stupid._ What’s happenin’?”

     “Oh who doesn’t care now?” They reply at exactly the same time and start laughing and shoving each other. 

    Sam flips them the bird. He shakes his head and gets off the couch, ready to make some food; he’s been looking forward to making pad thai the entire week. As he gets all the ingredients out, Sam curls up next to Steve. Shit. He’s forgotten about his idiotic plan. How to awkwardly break it to them? “So guys. I signed you up for a dance class.”

    “What?” Steve’s paused the movie and is looking up at him, concernedly.

    “I signed you up for a dance class.”

    “Oh really? Cool. What kind?”

    Steve’s way too into it. Sam’s got reasoning left still. “Why?”

    “Because your shitty-ass dancing in the kitchen was grating on my nerves.”

    “Hey! My dancin’ is not ‘shitty-ass’ _,_ thank you very much. I am a goddamn great dancer. God James. Grow a sense of judgment, or somethin’.”

     “I’m not sure in what universe stepping on your partners’ feet is considered great, but I’m sure you’ll find it one day.”

    Sam glares at him but breaks into a laugh. “Whatever, man. Got some info on it, or is it just some sketchy ‘dance’ class in an abandoned building?”   

    “Definitely in the abandoned building. Here.”

     While he busies himself cutting vegetables, they mutter over the information. But it’s good muttering. So he’s really not that surprised when Steve comes behind him. “A dance class, really?”

     “Really. It’s shitty dancing, Steve, you must know that. You’ve always wanted to dance, anyway.”

     “But it’s _Sam_.”

     And he sounds like the little kid that he spent his childhood protecting. But his voice implies more that it might be awkward than that he doesn’t want to do it. “Want me to come, or something?”

     “No! No, it’s just….it’s Sam, you know,” and god damn if Steve doesn’t blush like a thirteen year old. “I don’t want…awkwardness to happen.”

     “Why would it?” So apparently he’s hit the nail on the head. He’ll have to talk to Sam now about everything, but as of now, his plan is rolling along.

     “It’s just…never mind. It’s nice of you to do it. Thank you. I guess it’s payback, huh, for my great posters?”

     He smiles and nods and goes back to cutting. Steve returns to the movie. The plan is probably going to work, if only for his presence. Because Steve can be stubborn even if he’s not trying. But he’s done his duty as a friend. If nothing happens soon, he promises himself, he’ll enact another plan. He’ll give a little, though, another week, or so. So as the food’s cooking, he curls up on the recliner and stares at the TV screen, trying to ignore Sam’s idiotic muttering to Steve. It works.

    Until Sam comes over to wash dishes. The food was almost perfect, off just a little because of their lack of spices, and Steve had gone off to help Clint move Kate into her apartment. “So you think me and Steve would be great dancers, huh?”

    There’s an edge to his voice, but he’s not willing to look up and see what the score is. “Yeah.”

    “Steve’s okay with it?”

    “Why wouldn’t he be?”

    “Because. I don’t know.” The water’s running unused, as Sam stares off into the distance. “Look, thanks, okay. I know you mean the best. You sure you don’t wanna go?”

    “Why?”

    “Never mind. Just thanks, okay. I promise I’ll have fun and not kill Steve.” His laughter is infectious and when Steve returns, they’re crying and snorting over the dishes. He just looks at them and sits on the couch.

     The rest of the night goes over decently. None of them bring up the dancing thing or anything exciting. Instead they complain about the grocer’s and the apartment and politics. It’s a semi-normal until Clint walks with pie and ice cream. He sidetracks their conversation until they’re somehow arguing about whether a giant robot could kill Godzilla. It’s really not that normal anymore, but it’s home, comfortable. So he goes to sleep smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments guys! Um...i might not be posting for a while--AP tests yay!--but I'm trying.


	4. A Random Clint (also Tony) Appear!

     Home turns into hell the next morning when Nat bursts in, looking ratted and rushed. She drags away Steve and Sam, saying hello to him in Russian. Steve reassures him that everything’s all right, saying that Nat wants them to go talk to Nick Fury. The one-eyed landlord has never been around since he’s moved in, but Nat holds him in high regard.

      The empty apartment is kind of disconcerting—he’s used to the loud, chaotic mornings with the three, or sometimes four and five—when Nat and Clint come over—of them. So he finishes his breakfast a little earlier than normal and checks his emails. It’s not really his favorite activity, but lately, it’s been getting worse. Because there’s so many fucking emails about his campaign. One catches his eye though. It’s about a debate. Town-hall style, nothing fancy, just him and the three other candidates, but it’s a debate. One or two people he can deal with. He’s not sure about that many.

     So he stares at the screen for what feels like hours before typing and retyping a reply that says yes. As soon as it sends, regret clamps onto him. But sending another saying no would just make him look like an idiot, so he sits there. His brain keeps short-circuiting lately when it comes to the campaign, or everything, really. It’s in a couple of days, which is both good and bad, and he can feel the anxiety already creeping up on him. It’s been over an hour, and Steve and Sam still haven’t returned, so he decides to leave.

     They live on the top floor, which was one of Steve’s stupid fucking ideas, and usually he takes the stairs. But today he feels just a little lazy, so he jams the elevator button until he hears someone behind him. “You know, pushing it harder doesn’t make anything work better.”

     Fuck. The smirk is evident without even turning around. It’s Tony Stark. This is why he doesn’t take the elevator. Because then he has to talk to people. Peter Parker once trapped him in there, talking nonstop about science and his girlfriend, Gwen Stacy. Jane he can take, because Jane talks about stars, which are at least pretty. Peter talks about physics. He always hated physics. But now it’d be awkward to walk away. It might seem like he’s trying to escape. Which he is. He’s never actually talked to the man in depth, but he’s never actually seen a reason to. They’ve mutually avoided one another and it’s been great. “You never know.”

     “Actually, I do. See, I programmed these beasties, or at least I did—I think Osborn screwed with them again—I don’t know why Peter keeps that man around. The more you push, the slower it goes.”

     “Why?” That is possibly the most idiotic fucking thing he’s ever heard. He gets the analogy, but really? He has places to be. Like not here.

     “Do I really need to educate you on that? Steve, now him I could understand.” He’s got a smile that probably makes women weak at the knees.

     “He’d get it.”

     “Something you’re not telling me, Bucky?” That fucking smile really needs to stop. Soon. “I feel like we’ve never been properly introduced. I’m Tony Stark.”

     “I know.” He stares at the pro-offered hand and back up at Tony's face, which has lost the smile. Finally. Now it's more of an interested smirk.

     “Ooo-kay. Well, anyway, I’ve heard a lot about you. Steve, you know how he is. Sorry I haven’t actually talked to you—things have gone shitty where I’m from, but anyway. Saw your campaign signs. Steve’s a great artist, huh?”

     Those fucking signs. He should burn them. That’d get him media time, anyway, and he wouldn’t have to deal with these random people. “Yeah. He's really awesome.”

     And his voice is stupidly sweet again, that proud brother tone he always gets around Steve. “But you’re pretty awesome too, huh? Running for office, that’s something. Although I feel offended you haven’t come to proselytize me yet. What am I, not important or something?”

     The elevator still hasn’t come and Tony really is a master of smiling. It should be some sort of crime. “The former.”

      And his laugh should also be a crime. Tony talking to him should be a crime, that’s it. He’s already got public policy and he hasn’t even been elected yet. Maybe he'll actually win. “I’m truly sorry we haven’t talked before, Bucky. I always got the impression you didn’t want to.”

      “I thought the same.”

      The smile drops, and a heartbroken look emerges. Just in time, the doors open. To a pile of boxes, all marked _T’challa & Ororo_. There’s no one inside the elevator, however. “Well, it appears we have another occupant in this lovely apartment--I swear Fury's set this place up to hook everyone up. Love the way they just leave them in here, though. Is there going to be enough room for you, Bucky?”

      The smile’s back, and it’s infectious. “I think I'll be fine. But my sexiness is a lot to handle, Tony. Sure _you_ can do it?”

      He wiggles his eyebrows and then they’re laughing, loud and free and happy. Nothing that stupid or flirtatious has escaped him in a while, and he kind of likes it. Tony slaps him on the back. “You’re something, you know that? Must be why you’re doing so well in politics.”

      Shit. Why did he have to bring that up? “Not really, no. There’s a debate coming up.”

      Why exactly is he telling him this? There is literally no need to do this. “You’ll be fine. Just practice a little. Get Steve to like interrogate you, or something. Or Natasha. She’d be great.”

      “Steve would just end up agreeing, and Nat ‘doesn’t believe in politics.’ Although she does like to lecture me about what I should do if I win.”

      “I can see that. Her and Clint probably don’t even legally exist. Do you know what exactly is going on with them?”

      Fuck. He can see where this is going. If he asks about Steve or Sam, everything will turn into shit. But Tony doesn’t even wait for his answer; he just continues on. “They just leave all the time, and it’s kind of creepy. Especially Clint's obsession with birds--what about Sam? Or Thor or Bruce?”

      “Thor’s too…nice. Bruce—I couldn’t do that to him. And Sam? The only way he can ask questions is in counselor mode, so no.”

       Tony makes a “humph” kind of noise, and the rest of the ride is silent. He’s not sure whether he should start talking or not, so he doesn’t. The doors click open when they reach the bottom. “Hey-I’ll help, if you want. I’m pretty sure I can restrain myself enough to deal with you for a couple of hours. I mean, your sexiness is something else, but I don’t go for guys with long hair.”

       He almost trips. And then starts choking. It’s official—he’s a train wreck of a man. Tony looks momentarily concerned and then rubs his back as his choking grows louder. So he’s going to have to talk to everyone in this apartment. What’s next? Peter and Jane ganging up on him about science issues? Luke and Jessica bitching about crime? But it’s not a bad offer, and he kind of likes Tony. So he smiles and nods and gives him his number. Tony smiles back.

       After Tony saunters away, Steve appears by his side. Sam’s next to him, and when he looks, Nat’s in the corner, muttering to Fury. Probably about what a giant fuck-up he is. “Talkin’ to everyone, now, aren’t we James?”

       Just a little. He nods; Steve smiles. “Have fun. Tony’s a force to be reckoned with.”

       “He wants to help with the campaign. Look. I have to go.”

       So he makes his escape. He goes to the VA first—he’s got an appointment with a counselor. Sam helps, but it’s nice to talk to someone he won’t have to see every day. Lately, his newfound friendships with his neighbors have made Dr. Strange a happy man. He’s not entirely sure what exactly happened with Tony but has no doubt it was a damn good thing.

     The rest of his day progresses as normal—he campaigns a little, volunteers, eats lunch with Bruce, and then wanders home. Tonight is the first dance class, and the apartment is a little rushed. Steve has promoted him to fashion consultant and parades about twenty different looks because he “doesn’t want to look out of place.” It’s a weak excuse; Steve’s never been one to really care that much, which is obvious with his khakis. At some point, he becomes pretty sure that Steve's just showing him different versions of the same fucking outfit. He's not even sure why he's the fashion consultant-he's got an eclectic sense of style that usually involves skinny jeans, combat boots, and long hair. According to everyone, he is a hipster. So he's really not being any help. Although Steve really doesn't need it--he can make anything look good. Hiding a smile is becoming increasingly difficult with every change. Finally, though, him and Steve agree on an outfit, and he can escape.

     Of course, he escapes to Sam, who is brushing and rebrushing his hair with alarming intensity. His outfit is also astonishingly nice, and he's pretty sure Nat's red hair is swishing out the door just as he enters. So maybe he also needed a fashion consultant. Apparently the plan has uncovered something. Now it just has to work.  Sam jumps when he walks up. “Steve comin’? He better look fabulous after all this time.”

      Sam has on a dorky-interested-worried smile that just screams out trouble. They're all screwed. He just nods and wishes them good luck. Then he climbs up to the roof because while he might have set everything up, it doesn’t mean he has to see everything though. It’s not like anything’s going to happen anyway—Steve hasn’t said anything to him about Sam. Which he would if he actually meant to do something. More than likely it’ll just be awkward times in the Wilson-Rogers-Barnes household for all eternity. He does not have the patience to deal with awkwardness much longer. And it’ll all be his fault, so he really can’t complain to anyone.

     Except the birds. The birds that Sam, with the help of Clint, has persuaded to live on their roof. Redwing's the constant one, a beautiful bird who he's pretty sure is more intelligent than he is and hates him. He’s not a fan of the birds; he finds it kind of creepy that Sam talks to them a lot. And that Clint has a “nest” on the roof as well. They both _really_ love birds. It’s a problem. So when Clint appears just as he’s about to start his rant, he’s not that surprised. But he can’t complain any more, even if Clint’s lounging in his nest at the edge of the roof. He shifts his weight back and forth awkwardly, muttering things under his breath.

      Then his phone buzzes. It’s a stupid ringtone that Sam got for him—Christiana Perri’s “Human.” Sam’s also made Steve’s ringtones horribly ironic, and Steve’s too lazy to change them. It’s a true tragedy. He’s not sure who exactly would be calling him, but he looks at the number anyway. **U cmg ovr?**

      There’s no name or identifiers, and it looks like it was typed by a teenager. The only teenager he knows is Peter, and he’s made sure he doesn’t have his number. But he texts back anyway. **Who the fuck is this? How did you get my number?**

**Tony. U cmg ovr?**

      Text-speak is really annoying. Of course, Nat says it’s annoying that he texts paragraphs when he speaks in a few words, but it’s just a pet peeve. **Now?**

**U grnded? i sed id hlp. U nvr sed whn**

      He sighs. Taking the elevator this morning was a shitty idea. On a long list of shitty ideas, it would be near the top. But he starts going down the stairs, heading for Tony’s. **I’m outside. Please let me in.**

      The door swings open quickly. “How could I let such a pretty little face wait outside? Welcome to my wonderful adobe.”

      “I'm not a 'pretty little face'. I am handsome and sexy, remember?" And after all that's happened, his body still hasn't forgotten how to charm. Tony starts laughing, and he joins in. Maybe the elevator wasn't _that_ bad. Because maybe he has a new friend who brings out that stupid, flirty fun side of himself. It's not like it means anything, he thinks. Or hopes. At least Sam and Steve don’t blatantly flirt like this. At least, he hasn’t really noticed. And the apartment is really nice. It’s homey, but modern, nothing like their apartment, which is messy until Steve gets it in his mind to clean. Steve would probably love this place as a designer—it’s got nice, clean edges and shiny appliances with splashes of color that make everything pop. He’s really spent too much time listening to Steve’s designer rants. It’s catching.

     And Tony's willing to put up with his shit. “How could I forget? You might've even been right about the whole unresistable thing.”

     Fuck. That was really the wrong question to ask. Now his face is heating up and all he can think is _don’t screw up Barnes. Don’t screw up. Don’t say something like you did to Nat._ He's gotten exceptionally good at arguing with people, but seeing as he just set up his roommates because he can't keep his mouth shut, he's not sure he can do it. Because the way things have been going with Tony, he's going to wake up tomorrow with sex-hair and Tony pressed up against him and a horde of roommates wondering where the hell he escaped to. There's already enough awkwardness with Sam and Steve; he can't deal with this. It might not be a totally realistic possibility--Tony might just be like this with everyone--but he just stays frozen. Luckily his companion seems to recognize his problem.

      “You okay? Why don't you come in and sit down and we'll get started.”

      “Yeah.” He nods, and the smile’s back. Then they’re just standing there, staring at each other. Tony shakes his head and leads him further inside.

      “So. You know how to do one of these debate-thingys? I read a little on it, and it sounds like fun.”

      He hasn’t even looked up the debate structure. How the fuck does Tony know? But Tony’s making them drinks in the kitchen, which is way too shiny for its own good, and so he settles on the couch. “Not really. People can ask you whatever they want, right?”

       “You’re rather unprepared for our future congressional representative, Bucky. I might have to recast my vote. Mostly you’re right. People ask ‘important’ questions and you have to make your answers smart but simplified. I’m pretty sure you won’t have a problem with that.”

       “That an insult, Stark? I’m not sure you’re one to talk.”

        The earlier moment's passed, and he’s having fun. He’s not stupid, but Tony laughs. “So I assume you have a reasonable policy, something advocating for total freedom and patriotism and everything else?”

       His tone’s not serious, but his eyes are. “No. My policy is we lock up all the scientists and make them make us shit.”

      A laugh erupts from Tony, and it’s a minute or two before it subsides. “Maybe edge off the sarcasm for a little, okay? People don’t always get that. So I’m just going to ask you some questions. Reply as you see fit. Be nice and smart but also normal. I know it’ll be hard.”

      Tony smiles encouragingly, sitting way too close. But that’s not what he’s here for. He shakes his mind out a bit and settles into his politics mode. And then they’re off.  Because Tony can grill people. His demeanor changes, and he’s like every angry person he’s ever met. It’s slightly disturbing.

      Time passes quickly and soon he has to excuse himself to leave. Tony has tried, the whole time, to tell him his answers are “great” and “funny but meaningful.” He's lying. Because they’re mostly awkward and random and short. It’s dinner time when he gets back to the apartment, but Steve and Sam are still AWOL. He hates eating dinner alone. Dinner is a family affair of chaos and deliciousness.

      So of course, Clint appears, like he has some sort of homing beacon that alerts him to whenever there’s free food. He probably does. He’s actually pretty sure Nat’s put up some sort of spyware throughout the apartment—there’s no way she could know that much otherwise. Nat’s not with him though, which is good. Because he still hasn’t told her the truth, and now his whole “let’s set Steve up” plan is not going to make anything better. And he still feels like shit for lying to her; he likes her a lot. He’s pretty sure that plan is worse than the lie. Especially if he’s forced to be a fashion consultant again. Steve dresses like an old person. He really can’t change that.

       But Clint’s actually surprisingly helpful. When he asks, Clint says “I like to cook, Bucky. And Nat can’t do it for shit. If you let her, this whole place would’ve burnt down years ago. She almost did, a couple weeks back. Left ramen in the microwave too long—there were flames everywhere.”

      And he sounds way too happy about fire for him to feel any good about letting Clint into the kitchen. Although he finds it strange Nat sucks at cooking. She seems like she could do anything. Which is why she’s terrifying. “So where exactly are your roommates? They get tired of all your shit?”

       “Where’s yours?” Shit. He really doesn’t want to explain the whole dance thing. It’ll be awkward.

      “Eh. I don’t fucking know. Probably the studio. She’s her own woman—she doesn’t have to tell me where she’s going, you know? Like Kate. Oh my god. Have I told you about Kate—wait, you never answered my question.”

       “Dance class.”

      “They’re at a dance class? Like a legit swing dance, all the pretty steps and everything class?”

       “Yep.” _That I set them up for._ But his brain really isn’t cooperating. On autopilot, he just keeps stirring the pot.

      “Some people, man. I’ve got a couple of couples in my classes like that. They’re so…annoying. Like it’s adorable, but really?  Why are you going to classes together? You just spend the whole time making ‘fuck-me’ eyes at each other—one time I had to kick a pair out ‘cause I thought they were just going to do it right there.”

       “Yeah. I know.” It slips out without him meaning to. It’s a good thing he’s got his back turned because his face is burning up and he’s about ready to bash his head into the wall. But his mouth keeps going because apparently his brain is fried. “I got stuck being Steve’s fashion consultant for the evening. He didn’t want to look stupid.”

      Clint laughs. It’s a harsh sound, but perfectly him. “And let me guess, he still looked like an old person? Luckily he's got those too-tight button-ups that just make me jealous. I'm not even into guys, but those arms? They make me reconsider my life choices sometimes. But as his best friend, answer me this. What is with that man and khakis?”

      “I _don’t know_ ,” he replies. He really doesn’t; he’s tried to revamp Steve’s wardrobe to no avail. Apparently he dresses like a “hipster” or a “punk,” depending on the day, and cannot be trusted for anything. “And you should’ve seen Sam’s rapid-fire brushing of his hair. It was terrifying.”

      “With those two idiots? I can see everything they do before dates being terrifying. They’re so awkward yet adorable together. How long have they been dating?”

      Fuck. And Clint’s actually looking at him this time, which is making him even more aware of his desire to smash his head into a wall. But Nat’s probably already talked to him about everything, and anyway, Clint got to that conclusion on his own, right? It’s not like he actually led him there. He’s going to hell anyway. Might as well screw Steve over while he’s at it. “I don’t know.”

       “’Cause I’ve definitely got the whole dating vibe off them a long time ago. If I ever act like that with anybody, please just _put_ me outta my misery, ‘kay?”

       Clint’s laughing, so he can’t see that he’s about ready to impale himself with the spatula. It probably wouldn’t hurt that much, he thinks. He really needs to stop getting into situations like this. “I can’t see Nat doing that.”

      The laughter ends, and Clint looks up at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “You really are a crazy one, you know that?”

       Well shit. That was the wrong thing to say. “Sorry. Look, just don’t say anything yet.”

       A question’s forming on Clint’s lips, he can tell, but then the door opens. When on their best work, Steve and Sam could deafen an army. So Clint just nods yes. “So were you the envy of all those old people with those spiffy khakis, Steve?”

       Steve does his “pretending to be pissed off but actually happy” laugh, while Sam just starts laughing. The three of them leave him in the kitchen—probably so that Clint can interrogate them. Which is terrifying. Because Clint’s interrogation is less subtle than Nat’s. Not to say he isn’t good. Although if Steve hasn’t figured out his plan yet, well, Steve’s got his head up his ass.

      That is a possibility. There are several, really. Steve could’ve figured out the plan but actually likes it. Which is good, he guesses. But also terrifying, because he hasn't said anything, which is unnerving. Or Steve hasn’t figured out the plan because he’s too caught up with the whole Sam thing. Or Steve can’t see that Sam likes him and thus thinks the plan is pointless. Which is his best guess as to what’s happening. Or, by some strange means, Steve doesn’t see the plan because he actually doesn’t like Sam and doesn’t think Sam likes him. This is the least likely possibility. Therefore it's the most likely to come true. Which means he’s screwed. Because now Clint’s convinced as well. Why has his brain stopped cooperating? Why does it think it's funny to tell everyong that Sam and Steve are dating?

       He’s going to have to start working on his puppy-dog eyes. When everything goes to shit, they’re going to be the only thing that saves him. Also he needs to lie better. And not walk into traps set by Nat. Actually, what he should do is not talk to anyone in the apartment ever. That’s what started the whole thing. Even Clint betrayed him by actually talking about important shit. Really, he should just avoid them all. But they’re all growing on him. Which is a problem. Because now Tony’s not the annoying shit who hates him, he’s the funny, strangely flirty guy-next-door who is trying to help him; Bruce isn’t the bipolar skeevy scientist, he’s a really good lunch companion; Thor’s not the boisterous, nice dog-lover, he’s his boisterous, nice running buddy. Why is all of this happening to him?

      The argument over whose fault it is is still going on in his head when he announces the food’s ready. There’s no clear winner. And his lie to Clint means dinner, which he loves, is awkward as fuck. Even with Sam’s stories about the other partners. Apparently, dance classes attract the strangest people. Neither of them says how they were received. Probably as the super awkward gay couple, one of whom is about to, as Clint said, bust out of his shirt, and both of whom cannot dance. But that thought flits across his mind quickly—he’s more concentrated on the whole Clint-lie thing.

      So when they all want to play Mario Kart—yet again, he’s pretty sure that’s the only game Steve knows how to play—he begs off. His room is quiet, even with the screaming he knows is going on outside. Which means he's alone with his stupid-ass thoughts. He pulls out his phone without thinking. Except the only numbers he has are his roommates’, Clint and Nat’s, Bruce’s, and Thor’s. And Tony’s. his fingers pick out his name instinctively. That’s bad. **Hey. Thanks for tonight.**

 **Ur lik sum hngovr frat boi. I fEl usd.** It takes him a couple of minutes to figure out Tony’s words. Then the room is filled with his laughter. **If you’re offering....why do you text like a teenager anyway?**

**its fstr. Ud hv 2 wine n dine me 1st.  Dis bootys nt chep.**

     And he’s laughing again. **I’m pretty sure it is, actually. Look. Hey…how do you casually tell a bunch of people that you’ve lied to them?**

 **Y u do it?** That’s actually a difficult question to answer. Some part of his brain meant it; that answer was the first thing that popped up when he was stressed. **I don’t know. I was stressed, and it just came out.**

**Wht thy say?**

**They believed it. And they actually came to the conclusion on their own. What do I do? I NEED HELP. Please.**

**idk. i ned spcfics. Who/wht/whn?**

      Specifics will bury him. They are too goddamn awkward and hard to explain. So he stares at the text for a while. It’s not telling him anything. **Maybe later. I screwed up bad. Look. Can we talk about something else?**

      So they do. Throughout the night, laughter is the only thing that keeps him up. Tony blathers on about science and everything else. He’s not sure what he did to attract all these scientists. After everything is said and done, he’s going to know more about physics and astronomy than he’s ever needed. But it’s kind of interesting, even if his eyes keep fluttering closed. He’s pretty sure he’s not making any sense after a certain point, but Tony humors him. Then he passes out. 


	5. Chapter 5

     Surprisingly, breakfast is relatively normal. Sam and Steve don’t act all freaked out, like they were after he announced their class. Which probably isn’t a good thing. If the plan is to work, they should be awkwardly running around trying to figure out how to deal with feelings. But they’re not. It might be because of Clint, who is attempting to show off his chef prowess by making French toast. Currently, all he’s doing is making a mess. There’s flour all over his hair when Nat walks in, and Steve’s running around trying to clean everything up. He’s not actually sure who, if any of them gave her the key; sometimes she just appears.

     She watches Clint’s increasingly messy attempts with silence for a few minutes, a tiny smile creeping onto her face. Then she looks up at him. “Heard you were taking care of Thor’s dogs for a while, Barnes. I’ll walk them, if you’d like.”

     Shit. He’d totally spaced about the dogs, which Thor had left in his charge because he and Jane had a “science” thing to go to. It was probably a mistake on Thor’s part. He’s super terrified he’ll screw them up, somehow. He hadn’t known Nat liked dogs too. “We’ll go together.”

     And she seems genuinely excited at his suggestion. So he forgoes Clint’s probably delicious disaster in favor of a bagel and follows Nat out the door. They’re silent until they escape the building, and he can feel the awkwardness building. “So anything exciting happen during my trip?”

     “My campaign picked up steam. I got invited to a debate.”

     “I heard. That’s why you’ve been talking to Tony. I’m happy for you.”

     “He’s helping.”

     “Flirting non-stop at the same time though?” she replies with a laugh, “Well, you are rather pretty.” And she gives him a cocky, real smile that makes him feel stupid. “What about our resident dorks?”

     Fuck. It all ends up back here. “They went to a dance class.”

     “Really?” She stops, interest filling her voice. “That’s adorable. Although I feel slightly sorry for you, Barnes.”

     “Why?” And now he’s stopped too.

     “It must be hell to deal with those two.” He doesn’t reply, just shrugs. “Or are they still quiet about it?”

     “The latter.”

     “Hmph. Well, I’m sure we’ll all be glad we escaped them for as long as we did after they announce it.”

     “Yeah.” And something inside of him is twisting and turning in anger and guilt, but he smiles at her. “So how’s ballet going?”

     That brings her smile. So the rest of the walk Nat teaches him about the drama of a ballet company and then listens to his nonsensical ranting about government. It’s nice. And when they return to the complex, he decides to keep the dogs at their place, which is another horrible decision on his part. But their eyes look so forlorn when he leaves them alone. Just as he’s about to leave for his daily business, Steve appears. The dogs make his face light up. “I forgot you were watching Thor’s dogs, Bucky!” he says, and then starts talking to them. It’s slightly adorable, but seeing him makes him remember the dance class. “So how’d last night go?”

     “How’d it go for you? You were a little out of it, Bucky. Heard you went and talked to Stark.”

     Which is avoiding the question. Although it’s a great question—how the hell did he hear about it anyway—it’s still avoidance. That might be good. “You first.”

     Steve’s petting the dogs furiously now, which means something happened. “It went well. Sam learns really fast and it was…fun.”

 _Fun?_ Seriously, after all he had done, didn’t he deserve some more than just that? If he ever accidentally sets up anyone else again, he’s going to make sure they’ll actually appreciate his efforts. “How was everyone else?”

     There’s a long pause. Steve stands. “They all seemed to think we were the most adorable couple ever. Which was weird, right? I mean, we’re not. And Sam didn’t say anything and I really didn’t know how to either.”

     Biting back a laugh is really fucking hard, he’s realized. So somehow even Steve and Sam fell into the same trap he did. And somehow even random people recognized their potential. He really was a shitty friend for not noticing. “I’m sure they had a good reason.”

     And now Steve’s turning red, which is great. He blushes with his entire body, a trait both terrifying and endearing. “At first, all these women were talking to me. They had dates, I think, but it was kind of flirty. The class is for couples, apparently. And Sam came over and saved me at one point. So maybe it was that.”

     Or maybe it was everything about you two, he thinks. But Steve’s looking way too flustered for his own good, so he lets it go. “Maybe. You’re going back, right?”

     “Yes. Even with everything, I had fun. So you’ve got a debate coming up?”

     He lets Steve escape with that one, but their conversation is short because inside, he’s about to lose his shit. When he shuts the apartment door, free and clear of Steve, he starts laughing and jumping up and down. So the Plan uncovered something. Now he just has to force it to work.

     For the rest of the day, he goes about his normal routine, but everything’s a little better. Campaigning was growing a little stale, but his mood makes Sin and all the other argumentative people bearable. He’s doing decently now, behind the incumbent but ahead of the HYDRA people. Which is what matters. What matters is that he’s surviving and thriving in this world, after all that’s happened, and making some miniscule difference.

     Nothing else happens that day, or the next. Nat accompanies him on his walks and spoils the cats, all the while helpfully not talking about Sam and Steve. Clint takes up residence in their apartment because he has a soft spot for dogs, occasionally threatening to steal one of them. His affection is a little alarming, but it’s not aggravating, as he helps make food. Meanwhile, he tries desperately to ignore the upcoming debate by ignoring Tony in favor of furthering the Plan.

     Dancing is romantic, but it’s also a group activity, and he needs to get them alone. In the back of his mind, he realizes how creepy he’s being about this whole business, but figures it’ll make a great story one day. Basically, he needs them to go out to dinner, without him or Clint or Nat cock-blocking them into eternity. He just can’t figure out how to set them up on a date without it being a date. Because he always comes along on their restaurant trips—Steve’s set on tasting all the food in town and determined that he’ll do it along with them. And dance class was a hard enough sell anyway. Selling dinner as not a date will be virtually impossible. Steve and Sam aren’t stupid; they’re both rather brilliant actually. The only way he’s escaped for so long is that they’re oblivious to some things. Or just too chicken to try it. So his plan stalls on that issue.

     Of course, focusing on the Plan also helps ease the growing pit in his stomach. It’s burning a hole, making him more and more anxious, more flutter, as time passes. He’s still not sure why he said yes, or why he did any of it.

     Finally, though, it’s the day of the debate. A couple of hours before, the floors are about to collapse if he doesn’t stop pacing while Steve and Sam debate his outfit—he’s not in the presence of mind to do so—and then the doorbell rings. It’s Tony. “So I was feeling kind of rejected by this whole business, but I decided to come see you off anyway. Plus, you have to finish your lovely argument about how string theory is like a rabbit.”

     Shit. Tony. But his smile is quelling the butterflies just a little, so he lets him in. “I don’t remember it, but I’m damn sure it’ll be better than anything that’ll come out of my mouth tonight.”

     Which is not the right thing to say. Because then Tony’s got his arms on his shoulders and stares at him. “You’ll be great, okay? Just act like you did with me.”

     Which is easier said than done. But he really doesn’t want to argue. And staring at him, his mind comes up with the stupidest theory. “Hey. After everything, do you wanna go to dinner with me? To thank you, for helping?”

     It’s a perfectly reasonable request. And it gets Steve and Sam on a date. Now he can guilt-trip them into going after his debate and their class. He’s already got several cutely romantic places in mind. The only problem is Tony, who is still gripping his shoulders, slightly harder now, and staring at him. “Like a date?”

     Fuck. His cheeks are on fire now and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a blonde and a redhead. Somehow Nat got an invitation. But they cannot hear this. “No. Maybe. Look, it’s about the thing I texted you about. Please. I’ll explain then.”

     Tony looks slightly confused, which means he probably doesn’t remember what they talked about, but he nods anyway. Nat, Steve, and Sam then appear, proudly bearing an outfit that makes him look less like a twenty-something hipster and more like a respectable politician. So he goes and puts it on, and when he returns, Nat’s gone, and Steve and Tony are talking. Tony wolf-whistles when he walks up, and the other two smile appreciatively. He’s got to go soon, so he takes a deep breath and sinks in. He’s going to hell. It’s been assured. “You have class tonight, right? Tony and I were going to go to dinner, so why don’t you, after class? We might take a while and I don’t want the complex to burn down in my absence.”

     It’s really a great thing neither of them is looking at Tony, who has the face of a man who’s found a treasure. Instead they look panicked. Tony must sense their awkwardness because he excuses himself, saying he’ll be at the debate, cheering him on. Steve speaks up first. “We can cook. And why don’t the four of us go out for dinner?”

 _Because I don’t want a double date_. Which is a lie—nothing even is happening yet. “I owe Tony one. For helping. And there’s this cute little Russian place that I thought you would love. It just opened. You know I hate Russian.”

     And Sam is staring at Steve with these eyes that somehow he never noticed. After a second, he looks up. “Sounds good with me. What about you, Steve?”

     All Steve does is nod, and he smiles back. It’s getting really hard not to break down and tell him, and the only thing stopping him is the fact he wants to get it right. Maybe he’s starting to believe his lies, but he thinks _them_ is a possibility. And not a bad one at that. So he excuses himself and walks to his car, smile plastered on.

     He makes it to the debate without crashing, which is a blessing, given his shakiness. Why he’s worried, he doesn’t know. He’s been in war, been poor, and he’s pretty sure this is the most nervous he’s ever felt. But he looks into the rearview mirror and practices his smile, thinking of his friends, of Steve and Sam, of Thor and his dogs, of Clint and his cooking, of Nat and her sketchiness, of Tony and his laugh, of Bruce and his quiet thereness. He’s going to go down in flames, but he’s going to burn with a smile on his face, satisfied with what he’s done.

     Seeing the other candidates makes him panic just a little more, but he nods at them and escapes to the event organizers, who give him more directions than he’d ever remember. They’re supposed to have an hour before it all starts, but it seems that after only a minute he’s in front of a crowd. So he settles into his seat and smiles and tries to ignore all the other faces in favor of his apartment. Which has pretty much all shown up, crowding the room and smiling at him semi-encouragingly. Even the ones he’s barely talked to, like Peter and Logan.

     And then someone asks the first question, something about feminism, about fair wages, which is still an argument. He doesn’t understand why, but hours of listening to Nat and Maria about the topic, he’s got more ammunition than he’ll ever need. So he picks and chooses, the words flowing, maybe not as eloquently as Steve or as persuasive as Sam, but passionate and informal. Distantly, he realizes he sounds good, actually. Maybe Tony has a point. During and after his speech, he sees people nodding and muttering in agreement. It settles the butterflies and lets him feel a little better, even after the incumbent gives a speech that sounds like it rolled off the party factory line. And Hydra’s speeches are little more fascism in disguise. It boggles the mind that anyone would join their party.

     The debate flies by. He can vaguely remember each question, and his answer, but he has no clue what he said or did or how anyone reacted. It’s a blur, and he’s not sure that’s good. Because he comes away with the feeling that people still like Hydra and that he’s just a sham. But his apartment is happy to see him, and he’s crushed under their elation. Nat clamps him into a hug, whispering about how happy she was he’s listened to her feminist rants, and Thor just about breaks his back, exclaiming something about his “great policy on animals.” He can’t remember saying anything about animals. Tony hugs him, smiling, as does Sam, while Clint remarks that he’s a “damn smooth talker.” Steve looks like he’s going to burst with brotherly pride, and he lets himself be dragged away by him. “Fantastic job out there. You’re going to do good.”

     He’s not sure why everyone thinks he’ll succeed, but he smiles and shrugs anyway. “I try. Hey. Sorry about forcing you to go out with Sam.”

     “No. It’s okay. Really. It’ll be good. Although it sucks I won’t have my wingman to help me.”

     His eyes widen. Because that’s the closest Steve’s come to admitting something’s happening. “What do you need me for? Go have some fun.”

     Steve shakes his head and smiles back, leading him back to the group. “I feel like you have a plan up your sleeve, Bucky.”

     Shit. Shit. Fuck. “For what?” All the doe-eyed practice is now paying off, because Steve cannot realize the Plan.

     “I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll regret it.”

     And with that, he says his goodbyes and leaves, and he’s out in the clear. Except now Sam wants to talk to him. Tony leaves him be, saying he’ll be waiting in the car, and he’s stuck staring at Sam’s face. “James, you ain’t tryin’ to set us up, or anything, are you?”

     So apparently they aren’t stupid. But he can look goddamn adorable and stupid when he’s trying. Which he is. And it’s working. “No,” he says, dragging the word out in fake confusion. “Why would I do—do you want me to?”

     The question is a little risky, but he’s feeling lucky and it pays off. Because Sam blushes fantastically and now that idea’s in both of their minds. Hopefully they’ll be the ones getting lucky tonight. Because he can’t deal with more of this. Sam starts laughing, but he’s known him long enough to know it’s one of his fake ones. “No. No. Of course not. Thanks for doing this. Bye.”

     And he’s pretty sure that for all his bitching about Steve’s speed on runs, Sam can move pretty damn fast when he wants to. Which explains why by the time he’s outside, they’re driving away. Tony honks and wolf-whistles at him—again, why—and they drive off.

     It’s an awkward drive that just gets worse when they arrive at one of the best places in town. And by best, he means most expensive. Tony just ushers him in with a smile, and they end up sitting way too close at a table. “My treat. Least you deserve for all your great debating.”

     “Thanks.” This is way too nice. Way too nice for friendly.

     “And also your great matchmaking attempts.”

     Fuck. “How’d you—“

     “I am pretty damn smart after all. Actually, I thought they were already dating, but they were just way too freaked out by the prospect of a ‘date’ to be a real couple.”

     Best to just get it over with, right? And Tony seems more amused and proud than any bad emotions. “I may have let everyone believe they already are.”

     And Tony starts laughing, but in a kind way. “Yeah, I kind of realized that once I left. If it’s any consolation, I think it’s a good thing. They’d be good together. I don’t get to talk to them much, but they’re both great guys. And after seeing them together, I don’t know why they haven’t gotten it on yet.”

     “Yeah. Nat cornered me one day, and it just…came out. And then I might have told other people, or something.”

     “Well, I’m sure they’ll thank you one day. So what, now you’re trying to set them up?” He nods and orders food before replying.

      “I’ve always helped him with girls, so why shouldn’t I do it with this? Steve can cock-block himself on his best of days. And now I’m kinda invested in their fake relationship.”

     Tony’s laugh gets louder then, so much that tears are crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “It’s okay. Rhodey would try to do the same thing for me, if he ever thought I needed it. You actually think it’s going to work?”

     “You should’ve heard them talk about each other. It will.”

     “Might just have to lock them in a closet to get there though, huh? You ever need any help, let me know.”

     Which is a nice offer. So he nods and smiles and diverts the conversation away from his poor roommates who are probably muttering curses about him in a dingy booth somewhere. Hopefully not though. What he said was true—he’s way too invested in their relationship now. It’d better pay off.

     Dinner is delicious, a fettuccini alfredo almost comparable to his own, and for a second he wonders if that’s where his future lies if everything else fails. Tony’s diverting his fears about the election with horrible science stories and questions about his life, so he doesn’t get to dwell on that for too long. Eventually, they basically get kicked out of the restaurant because it’s almost closing. The drive home isn’t nearly as awkward as the one there.

     When they get to their floor, he starts to put the key in the lock before Tony grabs his arm. “Hey. Why don’t we give them a little quality time tonight?”

     He’s wriggling his eyebrows in a hilariously bad fashion, but he has a point. And anyway, Steve hasn’t texted him, which means he’s really busy with something. Hopefully that something is a someone. And hopefully that someone is Sam. So he follows Tony up to his room, where he makes a bed out of the couch and watches NOVA until they pass out.


	6. Chapter 6

      Half awake from the light streaming in through the windows, the shadow that falls across his face forces him to blink open his eyes. It can’t be Tony—it’s too quiet. Instead it’s Nat. “So I heard about Sam and Steve’s date night and that you crashed over here.”

     “Natasha—what are—how’d you get in here?”

     Apparently Tony’s awake. And quite concerned as to how Nat has gotten into his house. Which would be a legitimate question, except for the fact that’s it’s Nat. Who does what she wants and most likely got a key from Fury. “How do you even know this?”

     “Sharon saw you two come in last night. I’m kinda hurt you didn’t tell me about all of this.”

     But she’s smiling as she says it, so he’s pretty sure she’s got something up her sleeve. Or it could be the cats she’s surrounded herself with. Apparently it was necessary to bring them and Thor’s hyperactive dogs along. But Tony’s making faces at the cats like he actually likes them, so he’s probably screwed. Cats are not his thing as much as dogs are. “Well. They wanted to.”

      “Oh really?” And she’s got a goading smile on. Fuck. “You had me fooled for a little while, Barnes, but I am somewhat smart. They’re not anywhere near dating, are they?”  

     “No.”

     “And so he’s trying to set them up. Isn’t that adorable?”

     Goddammit Tony. He sounds so proud of him too, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. But at least Nat hasn’t blown up at him like he thought she would. She seems interested. “It is. Want some help?”

      Why the fuck not? She’s probably got better ideas and execution than him. So he nods. And then gets up to make food, because it looks like Tony is planning to feed them all egg shells instead of eggs. There’s a surprising lack of material to work with, but it’s better than whatever Tony was attempting. While he busies himself in the kitchen, Tony and Nat talk over the cats. He’s  not into eavesdropping, but that might be what he’s doing. Which turns out to be a good thing. Because then he picks up on Nat’s bitching to Tony. She’s beyond pissed. “—what did I do this week? What did I _do?_ Helped open a fucking restaurant. A restaurant, Tony. I can’t fucking cook. I burn water. I almost burnt the apartment down with the microwave last week.”

      Open a restaurant? That’s a interesting coincidence. Nat had suggested some places on walks, but he can’t remember which. But knowing him? “The restaurant. What was it?”

      “птица солнца. Why?” Well. If his Russian’s any good, that’s the place he sent them to. Maybe his subconscious is working for him, finally. Maybe he can find out, firsthand, if the Plan is working. “I sent them there.”

      And Nat starts laughing. It takes her a few minutes to calm down. “Really Barnes? Out of all the places...Want me to see how everything went then? Yelena will be more than happy to bitch about their coupleness, I’m sure. I swear the reason she opened that place was to lure men.”

      She leaves the room, still laughing, and after she’s a ways away, he can hear indistinct Russian. Tony, meanwhile, has gone AWOL for the cats. There’s no hope that he’ll be retrieved, but he’s worried that Clint would appear. Because the man would either discover the Plan and help—it seems everyone knows about the plan—or create a horrible plan with Tony to abduct all of Thor’s animals.

      None of those happen, though. Instead Nat returns, looking slightly pissed. “So apparently Yelena’s plan worked. She got some fancy Russian men in her bed.”

      Fuck. Well that plan is a bust. “So what’s next, Buck? I can trap them in my lab with the sketchy spiders Parker is working on. Spiders always bring people together.”

      Tony should be thrown out of the Planning Club. Because that is a shitty plan. He has better plans. Like locking them in their room, with candles and wine and Marvin Gaye. It’s a lot less suspicious. And spiders aren’t for bringing people together. They’re for making them cower in fear. But Nat has his back. “No. Spiders. Just no. How about a better plan—I could get them to go to my ballet performance next week.”

      “How is that better? That’s too obvious. How about we make Sam be Steve’s model?”

     Tony is way too happy about this idea. Except it’s not going to work, because there’s no way Steve needs an art class at this stage.  But Tony must see it on his face. “We could make Steve be Sam’s model. Like enroll them in an art class, or something. I don’t think anyone could resist after seeing him naked.”

      Nat starts laughing. “Wow. You are just a bastion of shitty plans, Stark. How is that not obviously coupley? You and Bucky going to enroll?”

     “Well, I’m not much of an artist, but I don’t think he’d make it hard. Although he might do that to something else.”

     Is Tony even real? Nat looks at him like he might not be, but then starts laughing. He's pretty sure he's red right now, and he can't think of any great comebacks. It doesn’t really matter, because they’re not getting anywhere. “Nice try guys, but no.”

    Tony actually looks slightly crestfallen, but he brushes away any questions about why in favor of digging into his meal. Eventually, Nat and Tony follow his lead. It’s surprisingly good for the materials he had to work with, and not before long, Tony’s creepily suggesting that he should stay and be his personal chef. Which sounds great except for he loves his life back at his apartment, which he should get to. Because he really needs to see what happened last night.

      Just as he’s about ready to leave, already having cleaned up, Tony stops him. “Hey. Do you want to have a party or something—nothing big—“ he adds, seeing the look on his face. “Just, you know, for all the people who’ve helped you?”

      It’s not a half-bad idea. He’s been trying to think of ways to thank everyone for dealing with him but hasn’t spent much time on the matter. Except a party means planning and shit. “Maybe. Could we do it the night before the election, or something? You won’t want to be around me when I lose.”

      Tony just smiles. “I’d always want to be around you. But okay. How about we come up with something later, after you’ve interrogated your roommates?”

      Laughter follows him out the door. Nat's louder, and he's pretty sure it's not about the whole Sam-Steve thing. Telling people the actual truth has made him feel a little better, but only the proof of his success will relieve everything. And there’s none. When he walks in, they’re both up, cooking, dancing around each other in an adorable way. They both look a little exhausted, but neither have tell-tale hickies or scratches or kiss-swollen lips. It’s rather aggravating. So he calls out a greeting because he really can’t watch their sickening adorableness any longer. Sam jumps—for some reason Sam swears he’s like a ninja—and Steve starts laughing at his partner. But then he looks up and his face is full of concern. “Why didn’t you come home last night?”

     Because I’m pretty sure you were fucking, or at least having the kind of fun I don’t want to interrupt? “Tony and I—we…” He’s not sure how to actually explain that without revealing the Plan, although it’s worrisome that Steve hasn’t said anything. “We went to dinner—at this _really_ fancy place—and then came back and wanted ice cream. It was so late, I didn’t feel like bothering you.”

      “Oh. Well. As long as you had fun.” Sam’s nodding behind Steve’s shoulder, although Steve doesn’t look convinced. Instead of commenting further, he excuses himself to the bedroom, to get changed.

     When he walks out, clean and respectable, Steve’s waiting for him. “So. Tony, huh?”

     Steve’s face looks like he’s realized some secret. For a second, he thinks it’s the Plan. Then he realizes what he looked like this morning. And sounded like. Shit. His hair was as messy as fuck, his clothes were all rumpled from the night on the couch, and he still smells vaguely of Tony, of machines and science and good things. And he sounded like an awkward teenager. Things have taken a turn for the worse. And of course, it’s then his brain decides to run away. “So what? How’s _your_ love life going?”   

       Which is as good as admitting he’s fucking Tony. Shit. That’s not what’s happening. But now Steve is going to think that. Maybe it’s karma, for everything he’s done. It’s okay though, because then Steve turns red. “Nothing. The dinner I went on last night was good. Class was good too—Sam’s a really good dancer—he learns so much faster than me. The teacher almost made us split up because there’s more women than men, but he was really insistent we stay together. Which was nice. And the dinner? I have never had such good Russian food! Apparently the owner knew Natasha too. Although she was kind of…interesting. She kept hitting up all the other guys in the restaurant, but left us alone. It was weird. But thanks for sending us there. Then we walked around for a while and came back and did…stuff.”

       More like each other. Especially because Steve can’t even look at him after the last sentence. Well apparently Steve’s love life is hitting new highs. Which is more than he can say for his, although apparently he’s now dating Tony because his stupid brain is on a one-way trip to destroy his life. “I’m glad. Do you have anything the night of the first?” Steve shakes his head. “Tony wanted to have a party for me, I guess, to celebrate before the election. You up?”

     Of course, he is. And Sam is too. He’s almost about to escape talking to Sam when Steve leaves them for his work. Sam should be going soon, but he stares at him instead. It’s slightly awkward, and he feels obligated to say something, but he really dosen’t want to hear about how awesome Steve is or more awkward half-truths about their night on the town. He especially doesn’t want another person thinking he and Tony are actually something. So they stand there, in companionable silence, until he’s got to go.

     There’s less than a week before the election, which is worrisome but good, so he’s just doing last minute stuff now. It’s finally settling in that everything is going to be decided soon. Luckily, he manages to avoid Sin and Schmidt on his trip to the store, running into Clint instead. Clint looks like he’s about to buy the store out, with his two shopping carts stacked to the brim and a basket on his head. “It’s not all for me and Nat, I swear. Although she could probably eat that much. Get her and Kate here, and they'd probably demolish it. But this? It’s for your party, apparently. Nat told me about it. Tony’s one nice guy, huh?”

      Which should be an innocent statement, but Clint makes it seem otherwise. Fuck. So _this_ is his punishment for lying. Now everyone’s going to think he’s in a relationship that he’s not. And he’s pretty damn sure Clint knows it’s all fake. Like 99.99%. Best just to go with it then, right? “Yeah, and he’s got some other endearing qualities too.”

      Back in high school, he used to be one of those guys who said shit like that and meant it. Usually about girls, but it’s not that hard to fake for a guy. And apparently his gut was right, because Clint’s eyes widen, and his smile drops. “Well, I’m happy for you.”

     There. He’s sold it. And he should really say something, but it’s kind of funny. So he lets Clint continue raiding the grocery in peace. Then he texts Tony. **Just so you know, we’re dating. Steve, Sam and Clint are all believing of this.**

**Wht? B u nEd 2 stp lyin bout thgs**

    Well, there’s that option. **We’ll tell them at the party, okay?** His finger’s hovering over send when he realizes something **. Could you ask them about each other at the party? Steve and Sam?**

 **Y.** That one letter makes him happier than it should. Because now he can finally stop worrying about them figuring things out. He should probably get them another date or two, though.

     But he doesn’t actually have time to set them up, because the next week is a whirlwind of campaigning. And party-planning, which both he and Tony are shit at. Tony keeps suggesting insane ideas—apparently, he was quite the partier at one point—and he’s not very good at keeping Tony on task. He does spend a lot of time over there, which gives Steve and Sam alone time. Sometimes Rhodey comes over and tries to help, but each time, he gives up, muttering angrily and amusedly under his breath. Things like "you were made for each other." He likes Rhodey, mostly because he's got horribly funny stories of the shit that Tony used to do, but he's also got a great personality. Apart from the whole joining the Air Force thing. That shows questionable judgment. It's the Air Force, for fuck's sake. But it's quite worrying, actually, that people are buying this act, but more worrying that Steve and Sam haven't said anything.

     They always look slightly rushed when they see him though, like they were doing something else right before he arrived. And finding them sometimes is a different story—sometimes they’re hiding in their rooms, sultry jazz blasting. They make everything seem normal, however. And he hasn't cornered either one about it recently because he really can't hear another description of how awesome a dancer Sam is. He really doesn’t care though; the Plan is apparently working. Although he feels slightly upset they haven’t told him anything yet. He’s been Steve’s friend for how long?

     Which is why he should feel bad for pretending to be with Tony. He hasn’t said anything to Bruce or Thor—that would just be rude—but he’s got Clint, Steve, and Sam believing him just fine. It’s for a number of reasons. At first, he does intentionally muss his hair and clothes, but then Tony starts flirting with him whenever they’re together. It’s funny how one little misconception makes everything fit together. For the most part, he and Tony act the same as they always have, but now everyone seems to think they’re something. Except for Nat, who just looks at them and shakes her head with a smile. The whole fiasco with Tony makes him slightly worried that he’s imagining everything between Steve and Sam, but halfway through the week, Tony decides to drag him to Yelena’s restaurant.  

     She’s never returned any of Nat’s calls or texts, apparently because running a restaurant is a great way to get laid. Yelena is quite the terror, actually, and starts hitting on Tony almost immediately. Tony’s about to return the favor when he wraps his arm around the scientist’s shoulders. There goes his brain, on autopilot for some command that he has no idea about, but it works, actually. She smiles and  confirms all their wishes. Not only were they “acting disgustingly ‘together’,” according to Yelena, they kissed outside of the restaurant. She’s about to tell them more when an extremely handsome, extremely lost, tourist walks in. Yelena’s gone after that. The walk to the car’s a little awkward with his arm wrapped around Tony’s shoulder. It’s the prosthetic one too, which is probably worse. But Tony doesn’t say anything about it.

     The night of the party arrives with astonishing speed, telling him there’s only two days before the election. If he feels half the nerves he does today as he does on Tuesday, he’s a goner. They’ve only invited a couple of people, but Thor is a party unto himself, and soon it’s a little crazy. Clint and Nat have commandeered Tony’s video games, and Nat’s beating his ass at Mortal Kombat, laughing all the while. Bruce is outside, staring at the night sky with Jane’s commentary, while Thor’s telling his horrible jokes to Steve, who is actually laughing. Thor’s jokes are not funny on any world, unless you count the kind of stupidly, pathetically sad funny as funny. Sam’s talking to T’Challa, who he’s known for quite some time, while Storm is talking to him about politics. Maria eventually joins in on the conversation, which is slightly terrifying. Coulson, who he does not know, but Tony does, and Rhodey eventually help him escape by talking to them. But the Plan of Tony asking them about it is never going to materialize if Sam and Steve don’t get together at some point. Instead everyone is going to be talking about him and Tony, because Tony has decided to keep appearing at his side and offering him food. Food which Clint cooked and Nat stared at, both critically and hungrily.

     Finally though, Sam and Steve meet up at the snack bar, and Tony strikes. “So, how long have you two been a thing?”

     Tony says it with a smile innocently, latching onto his shoulder. And if he leans into the contact just a little, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because this is about them. Steve lights up like Christmas, and Sam starts laughing. “Just a little while, man. We were goin’ to tell you, but it’s been crazy lately.”

     And for some reason, that’s the point when everyone’s silent. Even Clint and Nat are no longer screaming obscenities, in various languages, at each other. He can see Steve start to wilt, because no one’s saying anything, positive or negative. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Fury smiling a smile that’s probably a happy one, but he’s not sure.

      But then Thor appears to crush them into a hug, loudly yelling about how it was ‘about time.’ Soon everyone is expressing their happiness for them. And he feels just a little better for all the lying. Because without it, who knows what might have happened, if those two were left to decide their own fate.

      At some point, he goes out onto the balcony, to see if he can find the stars that Jane has taught him about. It’s quiet, for a moment, away from the loud party that makes him happy but nervous. Steve shows up then. “Nice planning there, Bucky. You almost got away with it.”

     Well they say good things never last. “How long?”

     “The dance class. You were never that great of a liar, at least not to me. But it didn’t really register your exact plan until you started asking all those questions.”

      “Couldn’t tell me sooner?”

      “Why? Had to let you come up with a good plan one day. Finally, a plan of yours worked, without horrible results.”

     Except for the fact everyone thinks that he and Tony are something other than friends. But that’s not important. “Well, you’re welcome.”

     Steve laughs and stares up at the sky for a moment. “It would’ve happened eventually. You just pushed it along. But why? Infected with Nat’s matchmaking bug?”

      Now’s the time that will make or break him. He’s in a perfect position to lie. So he takes a deep breath. “A little. She asked me about who you liked one day, and I said Sam. And then…”

     By the end of the story, Steve’s about to die laughing. He omitted the parts about him and Tony, but Steve seems to think that his story’s a class above Thor’s horrible knock-knock jokes. It takes him a while to calm down, but when he does, he clamps him into a hug. “You’re something else, Bucky. I cannot think of anyone who would accidentally convince everyone his friends are dating and then set them up to prove it.”

     Probably because there’s no one crazier than him. “Well it worked. And it was good for all involved, I’d say.”

     Steve nods, smiling bright and fierce. “With me till the end of the line, huh? And that just happens to include free matchmaking?”

     “Shut up. Go back to the party and dance with your boyfriend, or something.”

     He shoves Steve in the direction of the doors. Steve flips him off and starts laughing again. He’s halfway concerned that Steve will tell everybody, but he stays outside instead. It’s calm out here, in the dark, and after the craziness that has been his life for the past months, with the election and the Plan and people, he needs it. Eventually he’ll go back in, to the people who are oh too glad to see him, but for now, he’s fine right here. Everything’s working, right now, even with the future uncertain. In the next few days, he could win a seat in government or he could lose. He’ll have to figure out a new plan then, if the latter happens, but with the way this plan worked out, he has no doubt he’ll succeed. Instead of going inside, he stares at the stars, coming up with stupid stories about each one. And he breathes it all in, all of it, from his new friends to his startlingly successful campaign to the new couple on the block, Steve and Sam. And it feels right. There’s a hundred things he has to still do, from winning to convincing people that he and Tony aren’t a thing to avoiding Parker's talk about physics, but it’s nice outside. So he stays.


End file.
